Suitably Stout
by Elah
Summary: Carl Horvath is a patient and forbearing man, but even his forbearance has its limits. On a hot summer day, his tolerance was tested as he worked with Debbie’s “boys” the whole day through. Then, in the evening, the boys got their due…


Carl Horvath loved his Debbie very much, and he was quite fond of her "sons," too. However, some days it was hard to live with them. One particular Saturday in July was one of those more difficult days. Debbie's house was in serious need of new paint, and Carl decided to use that weekend to paint it. Luckily, the weather forecasts had predicted no rains. When Debbie's "boys" heard about Carl's plans, they volunteered to help. The day was hot, and not even the lightest breeze found its way to Debbie's garden, where he and the boys had started their work early. The heat had been bearable for a couple of hours. Then it became a torture. The sun blazed down on them from a cloudless sky, and paint fumes lingering in the stagnant air enveloped them. It was turning into a long day.

Although the weather made the day seem very long, for Horvath the day seemed even longer as dealing with the "boys" strained his nerves. Each one was a handful of restless and demanding energy; together, they were almost impossible. Michael, Debbie's own son, was more than 30 years old and was still a Mama's boy. Brian, Michael's best friend and Debbie's first "adopted" son, had never learned to trust. He used arrogance and sarcastic wit to keep everyone at arms length, everyone except Justin, that is. Justin, Brian's partner and Debbie's little Sunshine, had the talent and sensitivity of an artist. The relationship between the two men was a minefield with frequent explosions. To add to the chaos, Michael had had a one-sided crush on Brian since high school, which made him often resent Justin. Ben, Michael's beloved husband and the son-in-law Debbie doted on, had to endure Michael's recurring jealousy towards Justin as well as Michael's too strong and often unnecessary protectiveness towards Brian. In addition, Ben was HIV positive, as was Hunter, his and Michael's adopted son, a teenager who also had a crush on Brian. As if that wasn't enough, Brian's accountant, Ted, was also infatuated with the man. Ted, former king of a queer porn web-site, had taken a nosedive into drug addiction after falling afoul of the mayor-wannabe Stockwell's queer witch-hunt to make the fair city of Pittsburgh "family friendly." When Brian offered Ted a chance to prove his recovery from addiction by giving him a job in Brian's fledgling business, Ted's admiration had kicked into an even higher level. Ted still fought the drug addiction that had destroyed his relationship with Emmett, the flamboyant queen, who had ever since fallen for closet-cases. Emmett was so out and proud that even snowmen would have seemed closer to the closet than he was. Debbie was more or less "Mom" to all of the "boys," and loving Debbie meant Carl had to get along with them too.

With all of their quirks the "boys" did not question being queer and were there for each other as "family." They knew that sometimes straight people were nervous around gays, maybe afraid that being "queer" was catching; they also knew that sometimes straight anxiety translated into violence in varying degrees; and they tried to be prepared, helping each other to watch out for it.

Carl knew all of the "boys" and knew their quirks and problems: because of that he was tolerant with them in situations that would have made him lose his calm if he had been dealing with other people. But to spend a hot day painting a house with them was a challenge for which he was ill equipped.

Carl saw Michael coming out of the house carrying a case of beer and a tray full of sandwiches. The man's shoulders showed signs of the hours in the sun; shirts had been discarded long since in the heat.

"Michael. You know you don't need to bribe Ben with food anymore, don't you? He has his husbandly duties after all!" Brian mocked from the scaffolding.

"At least mine aren't "husbandry" duties like poor Justin's." Ben smirked as he handed more cream colored paint to Brian.

"Oh yes, now that my poor starving painter has transformed into a famous and rich artist, I've finally got myself a sugar daddy! He'd better manage his money very carefully." Brian leered at Justin, who seemed to have a very personal way of painting a house: in front of him was painted a very explicit image of a cock. Carl had a good reason to believe he knew what the model for that image was.

"I don't think Ben had that kind of "husbandry" in mind, you boar," Justin quipped adding a tusk to the painted cock, which resulted in a very weird image indeed.

"You mean he roots with his snout in shit?" Emmett hollered from the corner where he was brushing maroon paint onto the corner boards.

"With his snout, and tongue, and his other extremities. He is such a shit that there's no real difference anyway." Debbie's affectionate scoff drew Brian's wry smile.

"I wouldn't give you any shit, Brian!" Hunter's words made Brian roll his eyes, and others followed suit.

"Stop with that shit, Hunter. Brian is not interested." Michael had said those words hundreds of times: first to himself, now to his son. "Here are the sandwiches. Ma even made a turkey sandwich for you, Brian."

"For a man who is always ready to taste a new man, Brian, you really are narrow-minded when it comes to food." Ted shook his head in mock wonderment.

"I have to be careful with my taste buds. How could I otherwise fully enjoy the subtly different flavors of my protein snacks." Brian's tongue was firmly in his cheek as he took in the slightly disgusted expression on Carl's face.

The whole day was a continuous charade; Carl's patience for listening to the suggestive banter had been more than exhausted by lunch time. Fortunately the day was finally ending, and this torture would finally be over until tomorrow. Carl wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand leaving a maroon smudge.

The sun set, then darkness fell upon the painting team. The brushes and rollers slowed down and stopped. The men climbed down from the scaffolding and put the lids on the paint cans. Tired muscles were stretched into some resemblance of a human shape. What was left in the beer cans was poured down the thirsty throats. The shirts that were stripped off in the heat of the day found their owners once again. Exhausted feet moved sluggishly as the paints and tools were stored for the night in Debbie's garden shed.

"How am I supposed to move the brush with my hand for another whole day?" Emmett looked at his aching limb with dismay.

"I wonder if I'll be able to climb the scaffolding tomorrow." Ted's voice was as tired as Emmett's.

"Are you going to bale out after just one day, boys?" Carl asked trying to hide his hopeful enthusiasm for that idea.

"I promised to help, and I always keep my promises, Carl." Brian glanced sharply at Carl, who winced a little. Brian was the brightest and the worst of the bunch. Apparently Carl's attempt to hide his irritation hadn't succeeded with that one. "Guys," Brian continued, "you're just feeling a little lactic acid burn. You've suffered it before and been all right the next day."

"Apparently your outside-gym activities are effective enough to give your arms the endurance this work takes, Brian, but I'm not as lucky," Emmett replied.

"Ah, Emmett! One more reason to be on top." Brian's smile could have been decorated with canary tail feathers.

"Actually Brian is right. I think he is even hinting at something we can do to help this burn. Brian? You have Liberty Gym on your mind, haven't you?" Ben chimed in.

"Ben! Don't even mention a workout! I couldn't lift one pound!" Michael was in full whining mode.

"Mikey, Mikey. Not the workout, but think about the sauna." Brian's words brightened every face Carl saw.

"Sauna?" Carl had to admit that there was a thought he found tempting.

"Yes, sauna. Liberty Gym is open all night, and there is a sauna there. Would you like to come, Carl?"

"I don't think so, but thanks for asking, Ben."

"Are you shy? It's just us, your own little bunch of homey faggots. You're not afraid of us, are you?"

"Brian! Stop that!"

"But Michael, I just try to get Uncle Carl to take us to sauna." Brian said with his best little boy voice, "Uncle Carl! Take us to sauna, pweeeease! Nobody is there at this hour, it'll be just us. Nothing untoward is going to happen. Uncle Carl, pweeease!!" Brian's puppy eyes expression was one of the most devastating in the group. Fortunately he didn't use it often on Carl.

"Okay, puppy. I'll take you there." Carl could but laugh. "In any case, if I'm there with all you young and attractive specimens, nobody will give me the second glance."

Debbie laughed loudly when the boys told her that they had persuaded Carl to visit Liberty Gym with them. She said that she was okay with it as long as he didn't come home with souvenirs. The boys and Carl squeezed themselves into the large van that Emmett used for his catering business.

Liberty Gym wasn't totally deserted as the brave team of painters arrived, but as Brian had predicted, the place was not crowded either. From the glass wall of the lobby they could see some men working-out. In the locker room, a little larger group of men were getting dressed.

"Hi! Are you guys going to be moonlighting tonight?" some smart-ass hollered.

"That wouldn't be too wise, considering that we have a policeman with us," Justin shouted back.

"Oh my! Of course. How could our studly King and his fair consort come among us, their loyal subjects, without bringing a law enforcement unit with them!"

"Yes, that explains it. For a moment I was worried that Kinney had had to lower his standards that much."

"Let be, you loudmouths. Don't you know the man? That's Horvath."

"Who?"

"Use your brains, Ridge. Debbie's Carl."

"Ah, that Horvath. Sorry, man. You've got enough trouble without my blabbering mouth."

The light banter went on as the guys undressed and went to the showers to rinse off the sweat and dirt. Feeling better already, with towels wrapped around hips they climbed onto the platforms of the sauna. At the moment they were the only men there. Warm steam soon relaxed tired muscles and raised drooping spirits.

"What do you say to a little game?" Emmett sounded out the mood of the others.

"What kind of a game?" Justin perked up ready to play.

"Shut up, Emmett. No games tonight, please." Brian on the other hand was not. "Nothing good ever comes of your games."

"You say that only because you always lose."

"Not always."

"Emmett, what you have in mind? Brian can stay out of the game if he is so afraid of losing," Justin offered.

Carl could only admire Justin's strategy: now Brian would have to play or admit to being a chicken. Carl smiled knowingly.

"Well, I thought that we could give a little interrogation to the first person to be the target of a pick-up line."

"Hey, that sounds interesting!" Justin replied.

Others agreed with Justin, except for Brian, who tried to get them to discard that idea. Carl could see why Brian tended to lose these games: it was obvious from the beginning that the game was framed to make Brian lose. What did the gang want Brian to tell?

"With those rules there is no reason to play. You losers have low enough chances in any case, but if the rules are this undefined, you're going to lose for sure," warned Brian. Carl also had to admire Brian's absolute certainty of his personal superiority.

"What kind of definitions do you think would give us a chance, oh wise and mighty?" Justin's impertinence against Brian's aloofness, which one would win?

"For starters the pick up -line should be defined. I suggest that only 'Fuck me' will do."

"That's ridiculous. Who ever would say something like that?" Michael was indignant.

"I have said that. Worked well." Justin leered at Brian. Brian leered back. The boys rolled their eyes. Carl chuckled.

"Okay, we'll go with that pick up -line, Brian," Emmett announced for the group. "Is there anything else you want to define?"

"The interrogation. No interrogation. You better come up with something else."

"No, no, Brian. We want an interrogation, that's the point of the whole game."

"Forget it."

"Cluck, cluck, cluck, clu…" Justin's clucks came to an abrupt end as Brian smacked the back of his head.

"One question. That's enough."

"Ten questions. That's something, even if not very much."

"Ten is ridiculous."

"What do you think is not?"

"One question and one multiple-choice question."

"Now, that's ridiculous."

"Not as ridiculous as your suggestion."

"Okay, nine! It's barely enough to scratch the surface, but…"

The haggling took some time, but finally ended: four questions would be answered by the first to be propositioned by someone saying "Fuck me"!

"Now that we are settled, where are we going to play this game out?" Ted wanted to know.

"We're not settled," Brian said, his jaw set stubbornly. All the boys groaned.

"What you mean, Brian? You agreed to four questions."

"We haven't agreed on what those four questions will be."

"BRIAN!!!"

Carl gritted his teeth to keep his mirth inside as the boys negotiated and finally agreed on four particular questions. They also decided to start the game right where they were, and if nobody "won" the game in the Gym, they would continue it at Woody's.

The door to the sauna opened, and a middle aged man stepped inside, but stopped right there as if he had hit an invisible wall. He stared at Carl with shocked expression.

"Fuck me. Carl! How come, you're here…" The man stuttered.

"Pete. These are my lady's sons."

"All… ?"

"Well, she has this habit of adopting stray kids."

"She?"

"I think you know her. Debbie, Liberty Diner, ring any bells?"

"Ah, Debbie. Of course. So she's your lady. Fuck me, who would've known! I mean to meet you here…" the man had started to relax, but then he got concerned again.

"Don't worry, Pete. I won't tell anyone that I've seen you here."

"Thanks, Carl. I owe you one, man."

As the man sat down on the platform the boys and Carl left to go to the showers. They washed themselves quickly and were soon dressing in the locker room.

"The game is over," Brian smirked as he buttoned his jeans.

"What are you talking about? Nothing has happened yet. Nobody has tried to pick up one of us!"

"Quite the contrary! In fact, Carl won."

"What? Brian, did you get heat stroke or something?"

"Carl won. The guy, Pete, said the magic words. Twice." Brian's smirk was firmly in place.

"But it wasn't a pick up line!"

"He said the words! Carl won!"

"Brian! You're just trying to worm your way out of the game."

"You all agreed to the rules. And we agreed to start right away. When that guy came in the game was on. Carl won."

A young and handsome man came into the locker room. He let his eyes wander through the crowd, then settled to stare at Brian. He started to strip off his clothes; slowly, provocatively, piece by piece, all the while looking at Brian, daring him to respond. He changed into his work-out clothes, then, still keeping his eyes on Brian, walked slowly towards the gym door, but stopped by Brian.

"Hey, gorgeous. Fuck me!"

"Not interested."

As the disappointed man left the locker room, Brian stood looking amused, with one eyebrow cocked. His eyes sent a very clear message to Carl.

"Brian is right, boys: those were the rules. I've "won" the interrogation. Let's get out of here and find a place to have something to drink!" Carl was grinning from ear to ear.

Nearby was a bar that met the needs of the thirsty bunch. Nursing frosty glasses of beer, the boys quickly recovered from the exertions of the day.

"We have the game to finish," Emmett reminded the others.

"Let's forget that stupid game, already." Brian was ready to move on.

"No way, boys! You have tortured me the whole day with your very queer stories and jokes. Now I've got the chance to pitch a little payback!" Carl's smug smile send shivers down every back at the table, and the shivers were not of the interesting kind.

"Carl, please! Don't be cruel."

"And your babbling today was not?"

"We didn't do it on purpose! We just didn't think you would mind…"

"Exactly. You didn't think."

"You could've said something…"

"Maybe. But the fact remains that I won the game. You owe me the four questions, boys!"

"Couldn't we at least renegotiate the questions. They were kind of meant for Brian, you know?" Emmett's voice was kind of strained, and his furtive look tried to avoid Brian's eyes.

"I kind of liked those questions. So, no. We can't renegotiate them."

"Emmett, I think there is no way out of this. You should've heeded my warning. Start asking the fucking questions already!" Brian growled.

"Okay! Carl. What was your first impression of your partner?"

"I saw her curvaceous figure and couldn't think about anything, really. The vision in front of me brought about such an enormous pressure! I hadn't experienced anything like that in years. I still get hard just thinking about that moment. What a woman!"

"Carl! It's my mother you're talking about…" Michael whined and tried to cover his ears.

The other boys didn't know what to think or how to react. What Carl said was so alien to them, but at the same time, he was also talking about Debbie, whom all of them knew so well. And apparently they had missed something that Carl found to be very essential about her. Attractive woman, really!

What Carl had said didn't go down easily with any of the "boys."

"Next question, please!" Carl seemed to be enjoying the situation.

"You don't think that was enough?" Emmett asked hopefully. Carl shook his head "no." "Didn't really think so. What was the next question? Brian?"

"What are your partner's best features?" Brian remembered the questions - perfectly.

"Let me think. Yes, her thighs. They are like two pillars, firm and stable. I love her thighs! The way she can squeeze me with her thighs… And of course her imposing breasts. They give a man something to hold on to. So round and soft. I love to bury my face between her breasts and breathe in her scent. Can't do that with a woman who has those little flat breasts all the ad men seem to prefer their models to have."

"Carl, stop. I'll be scarred for life…" Ted moaned.

"And what about my scars: from today, from all these years I've known you guys. What about my scars, boys?"

"We'll never tell you anything, never again. Just, no more, please!" Emmett begged.

"You'll forget this as soon as I've closed my mouth. No. The next question, please!"

"Is there anything that irritates you about your partner?"

"She can be a handful, but… no. There is nothing that really irritates me about her. You see, boys: she can be as silly as she wants, she can behave like a goose, she can do foolish things. I don't care. You shouldn't think that I want to have intelligent discussions with her. I love her just the way she is."

"That's Debbie, all right!"

"That wasn't too bad, boys, or was it? That didn't make your eyes bleed. What was the last question?" Carl laughed.

"I don't remember." Brian was grim.

"Me neither!" Mikey chimed in.

"I remember! What do you…"

"Shut up, Hunter!!! You don't remember a fucking thing either!" Michael's loud shout and ferocious scowl made all the patrons in the bar turn to look at them.

"I think Hunter remembers this question, let the boy speak!"

"No Carl, I don't remember anything." Hunter's face was somewhat pinched, as if he had an ache somewhere, like crushed toes or something.

"Play fair, boys. You remember the question all right. Now let me hear it again. Brian, you don't forget the details of the deals you make, do you?"

"No, I don't forget." Brian scowled at his friends. "Here, boys. You asked for this. The last question is: What would you want to do to your partner at the moment?"

"You remember the blouse she was wearing today? Well, all the day I had to look at her wearing that fucking blouse, and all I could think was that her breasts… the neckline was so fucking low and wide, it could hardly contain her. Such a temptress she is. If she would step through that door now, wearing that blouse, I would pull her in my lap and would give those tantalizing breasts a couple of firm squeezes. Her nipples would harden under my touch, and my cock would harden under her delicious weight. She is so wonderful, so suitably stout. I would…"

"Enough!" Ben said turning away.

"Please, have mercy on our innocent souls, Carl!" poor Justin pleaded.

"Stop torturing our delicate minds!" Emmett squealed.

"Now my eyes are bleeding!" Hunter moaned.

"I so don't want to hear. That can't be my mom you're talking about!" Mikey whined with real pain.

"My poor ears! I'm afraid I've suddenly developed tinnitus…" Ted worried.

"I think I might be coming down with diarrhea," Brian said in disgust.

Carl started to laugh. The whining he had brought out of the boys was balsam to his irritated nerves. After a little while the boys started to laugh, too, one after another.

They emptied their beer glasses and left. They took a shortcut through the park to their van. As they neared the fountain, one thing became clear: Emmett was to blame for the boys' torture. Brian had pressured them to accept the rules, yes, but the idea had been Emmett's. And Brian had tried to talk them out of the whole disaster. So Emmett was the culprit. And so it was Emmett who was dumped in the fountain.

"Emmett, if you were 'suitably stout' your ass wouldn't be hurting as much as it is right now," said Carl to very wet Emmett, who was rubbing his bruised behind.

_This story was inspired by Gösta Sundqvist's song_ Sopivasti lihava _(the title of the song translates into: Suitably stout)_


End file.
